


Whiteout

by Burning_Nightingale



Category: City of Hunger (Video Game)
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Mission Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 12:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12481756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/Burning_Nightingale
Summary: A first meeting at the start of their adventure.





	Whiteout

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unlos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unlos/gifts).



> Obviously I'm flying blind with pretty much _all_ plot details here (and this will be thoroughly jossed), but hopefully this is enjoyable! Happy Hallowe'en, recip!

The problem with being new on any colony world is that no one wants to hire you, which makes your options for work somewhat limited.

This is just a fact of life in the galaxy, but Onni’s cursing it as their all-terrain truck bumps and jolts its way over the ice field. If they’d stayed on Saimaa, he would have found work for them eventually. Coming out here was a stupid, foolish idea.

This planet is named Is because from space it looks like a lifeless hunk of ice, and on the surface it doesn’t feel much different. The single city is rundown and dangerous, with unfriendly eyes watching from every corner. The locals are close-lipped and wary of outsiders, and very few people want to hire off-worlders, so Onni had to break one of his cardinal rules; ‘don’t work for the corporations’. Just his luck that on Is, the only way off-worlders get hired is by signing up to corporation missions.

And on top of all that, it’s always, _always_ cold.

Their mission has something to do with prospecting; Tuuri was the one paying attention to the details. She’s involved in investigating whatever they discover, while Lalli has been given the job of forward scout. Onni’s just there as ‘security’ - simple muscle, in corporation terms - to make sure they don’t get eaten by local creatures or killed by rival prospecting groups from other corps.

“You don’t say much,” the person sitting next to him comments.

“I don’t have much to say,” Onni says, not even glancing at them.

“Everyone else is introducing themselves,” the stranger says, his tone pointed.

Onni glances over at him. He’s young, perhaps Tuuri’s age, with a shock of short red hair and the white uniform of Royal Corp’s medical division. When Onni makes eye contact, he smiles and holds out a hand. “I’m Reynir Árnason, team medic.”

Reluctant, Onni shakes his hand. “Onni Hotakainen. I’m security.”

“You’re related to Tuuri?” Reynir asks, eager.

Smothering a sigh, Onni resigns himself to making conversation. “Yes. And Lalli. We signed up together.”

“Do you live on Is?”

“No, we were just looking for work.”

Reynir raises an eyebrow. “You picked Is?”

“Couldn’t exactly afford the flight to the Core,” Onni says, annoyed.

Reynir nods. “I guess I can’t talk. I’m here on a sponsorship contract.”

Onni just about manages to stop himself from wincing. Being sponsored through university or medical school by a corporation means you don’t have to pay any bills, but once you’re qualified, you have to work for them for a set amount of time. Medics paying back their sponsorship have no say where they get assigned, so they usually end up on dangerous missions like this. A lot of them don’t live long enough to complete their contracts.

“You don’t have to wince like that,” Reynir says. “I knew what I was signing up for. It got me out of farming.”

“You don’t have to risk your life as a farmer,” Onni says, frowning. If he’d had the option, he’d have _loved_ farming.

“No, but you risk your sanity,” Reynir grins. “Have you ever tried farming? You know how boring it is? Villtur is safe, but out there farms can be hundreds of miles apart. Having no one but your family to talk to for months on end gets old fast.”

“I guess.” It sounds good, to Onni, but he’s always longed for a quiet life.

“So security,” Reynir says, “What does that mean?”

“Means I shoot the monsters if they get too close.”

To his credit, Reynir doesn’t look too nervous at the mention of monsters. “Sounds handy.”

“Given how much hostile wildlife is supposed to be out there, having only two security personnel is a little worrying,” Onni says. “But it’s better for Royal’s profit margins if they can hire as few people as possible.”

“Yeah. I…know they’re not exactly honest,” Reynir says.

“You just try to survive your contract, kid,” Onni says. “That’ll be achievement enough.”

A few seconds later there’s a long, drawn-out screech, and the truck begins to slow. They must have reached their destination.

“Watch your back,” Onni tells Reynir as they come to a slow stop. “There’s more than just monsters out there.”

“Thanks,” Reynir says.

They unbuckle from the bench seats and stand, half-bent over in the cramped rear cabin. Outside, metal scrapes against metal as someone draws back the bolt on the double doors at the back of the truck. Onni picks up his rifle and checks the safety; he’ll be first out.

The door opens and Onni steps forward into the biting wind, momentarily blinded by brilliant, gleaming white.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at darthrevaan.tumblr.com


End file.
